Kabooooom! Awwww shit, of course the second she thought it they did it. WTF was that? Someone’s head? A Molotov cocktail? The cat in the microwave? Fine, she said, and started to get up. Which totally sucked because now she couldn’t finish her People magazine article and she’d have no idea WTF happened at Jessica Simpson’s baby shower. How ever would she go on living?
So she reached to get some toilet paper and whoaaa, WTF is that? No seriously, WTF WTF WTF? You’re not going to believe what she found. There they were sitting right there in the middle of the clean white toilet paper. Five haphazardly-placed shit dots. Holy. Crap. Five brown shit dots.
FRIEND: Woody!!!!!!!! Get in here!
WOODY: Hi.
FRIEND: What is this?
WOODY: Toilet paper.
Duh.
FRIEND: No, what’s ON the toilet paper?
WOODY: I had to check.
FRIEND: Check what?
WOODY: To make sure I’m clean.
FRIEND: Uhhh, you’re not.
Anyways, in case it isn’t obvious, her four-year-old had been learning how to wipe himself, you know, back there. But how the hell do you teach a kid how to wipe enough? It never occurred to my friend that she would have to explain these things in intricate detail, but they’re kids. How else are they supposed to learn? “You take some toilet paper and you wipe and then you fold it and find a clean section and you wipe again, and you repeat this until the TP comes back clean or until you run out of room and you need to rip off some more toilet paper.”
So since my friend didn’t tell her son EXACTLY what to do in explicit detail, he came up with his own method. You wipe and then you use your finger like a dipstick in your tush to see if it comes back clean. Only it never comes back clean because you’re not even four and can’t wipe worth shit.
See, kids have no clue unless we tell them these things. Like here’s a story about my other friend’s kid. So one day his mom walked into the living room and he was having total itchy butt and was dragging his ass on the carpet like a dog with worms, so she asked him what was wrong. Apparently he had stopped wiping.
JASMINE: (with alarm) Why aren’t you wiping?
ITCHY BUTT: I didn’t know how many squares of toilet paper to use.
WHAT???!!! This cracks me up for all sorts of reasons. Knowing my friend, she was all nice to him and casually took her kid into the bathroom to show him how many squares to use, but if this were my child, here’s what I would have said.
ME: Okay, kid, I get it. This stuff can be confusing. But are you kidding me? Zero squares? ZERO?! Ennhhh, wrong! I think we all know ZERO is NOT the correct answer. Like if this were on a multiple-choice test:
How many squares of toilet paper do you use when you take a dump?
One
Three
Five
More
See? Zero isn’t even an option.
My point is this. Whoever says potty training can happen in three days is lying their ass off. Potty training takes YEARS. Sure, they might be peeing in the potty right away. But some of them won’t poop in there. Some of them won’t do it at night. Some of them won’t go on a public potty. Some of them create beautiful Jackson Pollock-like urine paintings on the walls. Some of them don’t know how many squares to use. And some of them wipe brown shit dots on the toilet paper for their mom to find. Awesome.
New Years resolutions I plan on breaking the shit out of
Ordinarily when I catch a glimpse of my naked self in the mirror I have a few reactions:
I throw up in my mouth a little but then swallow it (you’d think after seeing my naked body I’d fully throw up to expel a few calories)
I look around for a black Sharpie to mark up my body so I can fantasize that I have an appointment with Dr. 90210
I want to eat my muffin top
But for the past 40 days (between Thanksgiving and New Years) I’ve had a completely different reaction. Who gives a shit how I look right now because come New Years Day, I’m going on a health kick. And come to think of it, it’s not just about eating. By February I plan on looking like a tall skinny blonde who’s hairless from the nose down, minus the tall and blonde part. Plus like a million other things I want to change too. So here goes. Twelve New Years resolutions I plan on breaking the shit out of:
1. I will no longer eat my kids’ leftover French fries, chicken nuggets, bagels, sandwich crusts, ice cream cones, cake frosting, pizza crusts, etc. etc. etc. Because last year I was basically a human food disposal. I might as well have just tipped my head backwards over the sink and let people scrape their plates straight into my mouth. It would have been less degrading than the way I cram ten French fries into my mouth as we’re packing up to leave a restaurant. And then ten more while I’m pretending to double-check the table for anything we forgot. I fail to notice that we’re leaving behind my kid’s favorite sippy cup, but oh shit, look what we did forget. Ten greasy ass French fries.
2. One night a month I will try to wear a sexy nightgown to bed. I mean without putting on fat pants and a disgusting long-sleeved t-shirt over it, even if it means shivering all night long and having to warm my hands between the blubber of my thighs.
3. Speaking of blubber, from now on when I undress at the end of the day and my husband drools and says, “Yeah yeah yeah,” I won’t roll my eyes and look at him like he must be insane.
4. I will no longer turn into Glenn Close from Fatal Attraction when my daughter won’t put on her shoes. Zoey, put on your shoes. Zoey, put on your shoes. Zoey, put on your shoes. ZOEY, PUT ON YOUR FUCKING SHOES RIGHT FUCKING NOW OR I’M GOING TO RIP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF AND LEAVE YOU AT HOME WHILE WE GO TO DISNEYWORLD WITHOUT YOU!!!!!! Just so it’s clear I didn’t actually say the word “fucking” to my kiddo. I just wrote it in there to illustrate how much I was yelling. In real life I speak with giant pauses while I think the curse words in my head.
5. I will stop throwing giant fistfuls of Cheerios out of my kid’s car seat into parking lots. I know they’re biodegradable but before it rains some poor schmuck is probably going to step on them first and that’s just annoying. Believe me I know. I step on Cheerios every goddamn day of my life so I’m like an expert at it.
6. I will finally unsubscribe from Pottery Barn, Toys R Us and Michaels emails, but I will try not to feel like a loser if my inbox is empty when I wake up in the morning. Why in God’s name it makes me feel popular that World Market emails me at three in the morning is beyond me.
7. I will check my magnification mirror daily to make sure I notice my one-haired goatee BEFORE someone else does.
8. There are 1095 meals in a year (not including midnight snacks, brunches, and drunken moments when I shovel handfuls of bacon bits into my mouth). I promise to stay seated for the duration of one of those 1095 meals. Just one.
9. I will not forget one key item every time I go grocery shopping. Do not forget the buns. Do not forget the buns. Do not forget the buns. And then I’m standing in the parking lot loading the bags into the car and guess what I F’ing forgot. The buns. But the kids are already loaded in and I would have to unload them and reload them which is worse than being water-boarded, so I guess we’re having sloppy joes without the buns. The unintentional Atkins diet.
10. I will remember that the three-second rule cannot be lengthened to thirty seconds or thirty days, even when the Oreo I find under the table is fuzz-free.
11. I have heard that if you spend less than $50 at Target they don’t make you sign for it. It’s one of those suburban myths. I will go to Tarjay and attempt to spend less than $50 to see if it’s true. Attempt.
12. I will no longer lick my finger and clean my kid’s face. Replacing the chocolate with saliva does not make it clean even if you can’t see the saliva.
Dear Uterus,
I just want to say thank you soooo much for the very thoughtful Valentine’s Day gift today. Now I can totally pretend like I planned on “doing it” tonight.
XOXOXO
Your BFF
Ten things that suck about Valentine’s Day (easiest list I’ve ever come up with)
Awwww shit, it’s that holiday again. All in favor of adding February 29th to the calendar and taking February 14th away, say aye! Because seriously, do we seriously need a frigging holiday to tell us to express our love?
As far as I’m concerned, I tell my kiddo I love him every time I change his disgusting poopie diaper. Would I be up to my elbows in his green dinarena if I didn’t love him? I think not. And do you see this chair that looks like a giant piece of dookie?
Would I let my husband keep this in our house if I didn’t love him? (side note, by the time of publication the chair was gone) And well, the fact that I don’t kill our 4-year-old every day is the biggest token of my affection you can get.
So here’s the thing. It’s not just me. I’m willing to bet that Valentine’s Day sucks for more than 50% of the population. No, I didn’t do a scientific study, but I’m making an educated guess. Based on what? Based on this shit. Here are the top ten things that suck about V-Day:
1. This holiday literally makes bad couples stay together. Like when I was young and dating I distinctly remember not breaking up with someone because Valentine’s Day was in like 8 days. Awww shit, I can’t dump his ass now. It’s almost V-Day and that’d just be mean. Plus, then I’d be alone on V-Day. And of course, then he bought me an expensive piece of jewelry that I had to accept because he didn’t know I was going to dump him later that week, which I couldn’t do now because he bought me an expensive piece of jewelry.
2. This holiday also does the complete opposite and makes people break up because the pressure is just too much. Like once I made this jackass cookies for V-Day and he gave me the whole “I don’t think we should be that serious” speech. WTF? Is it because I made them heart-shaped? Cupid’s like the only other F’ing shape there is for this stupid holiday, so you’d rather me give you a naked baby? What kind of message does that send?
3. Dear Parents, please have your kids sign their name on 17 cards and bring them into school this Friday. And please plan on staying at school for a few minutes to help your kids put them in the mailboxes. And please no candy. So here’s what I have to say about that. A. V-Day cards are like the size of a post-it note, so getting my 4-year-old to write her name that small once, much less 17 times, is like crazy impossible. B. I take three showers a week. So when you make ME sign and stuff 17 cards because my kid was more interested in playing with a box of tampons, basically you’re taking away one of my showers. Which isn’t good for anyone. C. Does this mean my kid is bringing home 17 cards? They better be recyclable because F that shit coming into my house. D. No candy?! Then WTF am I supposed to steal from my kid?
4. Guess who else hates Valentine’s Day. Van Damme, Vin Diesel and The Rock. Guess who else. Every other guy on this planet. Because I’ll tell you what movie isn’t being watched on February 14th. Anything with even a hint of an explosion. But guess what is being watched. That movie where Meryl Streep joins a book club where they all look at their vajayjays in handheld mirrors until she bumps into some Italian schmuck and they fall in love and make love under a covered bridge in Madison County. Yes, I made that shit up, but aren’t all chick flicks basically that?
5. Ohhhh honey, let’s eat at that restaurant we love for Valentine’s Day. I’ll make reservations. HOSTESS: Two for dinner? Lovely. We have openings at 4pm or 11pm but we don’t actually open until 5 and you have to leave by 11:15. So you end up at F’ing Chilis sharing an oh-so-romantic awesome blossom. Awesome.
6. You know all that shit they sell for V-Day presents like boxers and socks and t-shirts with hearts all over them? There’s no better way to waste your money. Because there is only one day a year you can wear that shit. On Valentine’s Day. You can’t even wear it the week leading up to V-Day because you know you want to wear it on V-Day itself and that festive shit is so obvious everyone will notice you wore the same thing twice in one week and they’ll think that’s gross even if you washed it. Unless you wear a sign that says I washed it, but that’s just weird.
7. Red, pink and purple do not go together. They F’ing clash. But for some reason everyone pretends like they do on V-Day. Even though they DON’T.
8. As if V-Day didn’t suck enough when you were single, it’s practically worse when you’re married because you’re all like, seriously, I just paid like 9 million dollars for Christmas presents and now I have to buy more presents? So you and your spouse agree that you’re not going to spend more than $20, which actually sucks even worse because do you know how hard it is to find something romantic for $20. This is the reason I have a closet downstairs filled with shit like a Slanket and a lap desk.
9. Great, another holiday that’s all about eating crap. I know people are all like whatevs, it’s only one F’ing day a year, but it’s not one F’ing day. Because every day it’s some holiday or some birthday or a holiday because it’s someone’s birthday (ahem, Jesus) or a birthday party with cake to celebrate a birthday that’s four days later when there will also be cake to eat on the actual birthday. And V-Day might be the worst because A. Most of it is chocolate which is irresistible and a sin to throw away. And B. I have to bite like every piece until I find the one that’s filled with caramel and I even eat that nasty one with the gross pink stuff inside.
10. I remember when my hubby and I started dating and we’d write like a whole novel in our thoughtfully picked out V-Day cards. Like we had to write on both sides of the card and even the back sometimes and draw an arrow to tell you to turn the card over. Duh, in case you didn’t realize “I love the way you” wasn’t the end of the sentence. And then as we dated longer, it shrank into a shorter paragraph. And then by the time we were married, it was like “I love you, xoxoxox, Love, me.” And now that we have kids we just buy the first card we pick up in the store and scribble “Love, me” on it. I’m pretty much thinking that by the time we’re 80 we’re just going to sign our cards with a single dot.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
To the grandparents who all sent musical cards to the kids,
F.U.
Daylight Savings can kiss my ass
Seriously? Are you kidding me? My kids are finally both sleeping through the night so of course it’s time to F with their schedule. Time to change the stupid clocks AGAIN. Here’s what I think about Daylight Savings Time:
1. At first I have to run it through my head— Spring forward, Fall back—so this time we set the clocks forward. Wait, is that a good thing? And then I remember it’s never a good thing anymore. It was good when I was single and partying and we got an extra hour of sleep in the Fall, but now I’m a parent and they both SUCK ASS.
2. Yeah, I know it’s going to seem awesome tomorrow morning when I look at the clock and it’s 7AM and neither kid is up yet, but it’s total bullshit. Because tomorrow night when I’m trying to put the kids down for bed at 7:30, it’s really only 6:30, and it’s gonna be like they downed 6 Red Bulls and three 5-Hour Energies right before getting tucked in. Does anyone know where I can buy some of those restraining straps they have at mental hospitals because I’m going to need some to keep them in bed?
3. I love walking through the house the next day and trying to figure out which appliance is modern enough to change on its own and which ones I need to change manually. And by love I mean hate.
4. And of all the ones I have to change manually, when I hold the button down does it scroll through the numbers quickly or does it tick…by…one…at…a…time…until…you…. want…to…kill…yourself? So finally you just start pressing the button over and over again really fast and want to kill yourself again when you accidentally go past the number you meant to stop at.
5. And then you’re playing downstairs with the kids in the playroom a few days later and there are twenty minutes until naptime, until suddenly you realize the clock you’ve been looking at was never c
hanged. Aggggh! It’s like 40 minutes PAST naptime! Which explains why your kids are such cranky a-holes and why they’ll be cranky later today too when you have to wake them up so they don’t sleep too late and ruin their bedtime.
6. Maybe I’m an idiot, but why is it so crazy hard to change the clock in the car? (yeah, that makes sense, turn OFF the power to change it. WTF???) So for weeks you don’t change it and every time you look at it you just add an hour in your head. And then one day you get to school a little early and you use the time you’re waiting to finally change the clock, only every time you look at the clock from now on you keep adding an hour to it because now it’s a habit. So A. You think you’re always running late. And B. You’re totally wasting valuable brainpower (hysterical that I spelled brainpower wrong the first time) by doing unnecessary math.
7. I’ve heard that Daylight Savings still exists for the farmers. Now I’m all for farmers, but F that. I mean how many farmers are in this country? Now how many parents are there? We win.
ME: Want to dye Easter eggs today?
ZOEY: Yeah!!! (pause) But why do the eggs have to be killed?
And why was she so excited to kill something??
Ten things I really F’ing want for Mother’s Day
1. I don’t want to wipe a single ass all day. I think all kids should have to hold in their poop in on Mother’s Day. Now that would make it special.
2. I want brunch. But not with the whole frigging family. I want brunch with my other mommy friends. See ya, rug rats. Mommy’s coming back drunk on laughter and bloody marys.
3. I want to sleep in. But not with my hooligans shouting “MOMMYYYYYY!!!” at the top of their lungs and ramming one of those giant cannon thingies into the door to bust inside. To all the hubbies reading this: when the rugrats wake up, take them outside immediately. Not downstairs. OUTSIDE. That’s right, scoop them up in a football hold and rush them out the door. I’m F’ing serious. Change their diapers and their clothes on the front lawn if you have to. Just don’t let them wake my ass up.
I Heart My Little A-Holes Page 7